


Heaven Sent and Hell Born

by chaosgenes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chair Sex, Demon Dean Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Multiple Sex Positions, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosgenes/pseuds/chaosgenes
Summary: Countdown reaction fic to season 10's trailers and sneak peeks. Sam suffers with the knowledge that Dean is now a demon. He will lie, he will cheat, and he will kill anyone who stands in his way of saving his brother. And if Dean can just stop seducing Sam long enough for Sam to make that happen, then everything should go according to plan.





	1. Follow the Light—Wait, That's the Wrong Way!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Season 10 is premiering soon next week. One day, one fic, seven chapters. Enjoy :)

_"C'mon Sammy, you slow poke."_

_A voice, childish and stern, echoes in the air around Sam. It thrums and warms him like a bath in the sun. He knows he's five, holding on to Dean's hands, feeling small, safe, and squinting against the ethereal light that shines behind his brother, his god._

_Then he's nine, twelve, and sixteen—still following Dean who continues to grow older at every slow blink of an eye and who is still guiding him steadily towards the light. His voice is pleasant, familiar, all the qualities of being home._

_"We can do this, Sammy."_

_He's twenty-two through twenty-five, constantly tripping over and being pulled up harshly by a rough hand and by a face that's trying to be brave._

_Blinking again, Sam is thirty and thinks that he's blind because he sees nothing but white and not a brother in sight. His heart thumps, his eyes blink, and then Dean's there again, just a few steps ahead of him. Sam runs for the first time and catches the man by the arm, relief only being a fraction of what he actually feels._

_"Where were you?"_

_Dean's voice still thrums, still warms every fibre of Sam's being, but Sam can't answer. He wants to ask Dean the same thing. Brother in tow, he walks ahead, wanting to reach the light already, wanting to reach the end already, and just be_ done _with everything. Whatever that means._

_"Good bye Sam."_

_He's thirty-one when Sam looks behind. His hands suddenly hold nothing. Neither what's precious nor what he needs because all that begins to disappear with Dean—Dean who is being swallowed by rolling thick shadows._

_Sam turns his back against the light, screaming without a sound and straining towards his brother. He can't run fast enough, can't reach far enough—can't think of a reason why his very world is retreating from him._

_Why?_

_Why?!_

_Dean smiles eerily at him as evil blackens his eyes. The answer that comes is void of comfort and warmth. Instead it rings cold, harsh, and empty._

_"Because you put me here."_

"DEEEEEEAN!" Sam screams until his throat is raw and sore.

Darkness surrounds him and it's never struck so much fear in him as it does now. Not wanting to see it one second further, Sam snaps up and turns on the bedside lamp. He shifts back roughly, pushing back his hair hastily as he pants and tries to breathe. Calm never reaches him. His skin is slick with sweat and hot with the blood rushing beneath. Although his heart is still hammering fiercely, he shivers.

"Dean," Sam says shakily, frantically, throwing back the covers of his blankets. His feet meet cold concrete and it doesn't placate him at all. Only one thing, one person can.

"Dean," Sam mutters breathlessly out the door.

"Dean," he repeats stumbling through the quiet halls.

"Dean?" he hopes in an empty bedroom.

"Dean… _fuck_ ," Sam sobs, curling in his brother's bed.

That's right. He did this. He let Dean die—let his own brother become a demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any notes at the end of the chapters will be from 2018 since I originally wrote this years ago and only finished the last chapter this July 12, 2018, so I'm just gonna post everything from here on. Hope you like the rest of the chapters :)


	2. I'm a Monster True, but What About You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, thanks for the favs so far :) Just five more days until Season 10 starts! And please leave a review about your thoughts on this chapter

Blood pools on the ground as Sam wipes his blade clean on the corpse on the floor. He has lost count of how many demons he has killed in search of the one that he can't kill. But he made this mess and he will undo it. He will cure Dean. No matter how much he loses himself in the process.

"M-monster," a woman gurgles out. She's strewn on the floor with her throat cut; Sam finds it funny how her dying word is that single specific seven letter word.

Not a demon, not a human, but a _monster_. He has his own league and for a second, Sam is momentarily impressed with himself. It isn't the first he's been called this, but being referred to one by a demon itself? It's ironic. For both him and Dean.

It's when Sam kills a human in cold blood does he realize the extent of this new-old name.

The hunter's name was Jack O'Donald, a forty year old man on the side of graying and with an attitude very much like John Winchester. Under different circumstances, they would have gotten along. Sam only hesitated once before he knifed him in the stomach and twisted it cruelly.

What could he do? Jack said he made an alliance that would go after the king of hell candidate. 'Nip it in the bud,' he had said, expecting Sam to join.

Now he rifles through the dead man's belongings, in search of any clue that would reveal whoever will be involved with bringing down his brother. To be honest, he knows no one can and Dean can hold up on his own. Clearly. Based on the piling corpses in his wake. Still, demon or not, Dean is still Sam's brother and someone wanting the man's head is an enemy in Sam's eyes. Besides, if anyone has the privilege on killing him, it's going to be Sam Winchester.


	3. The Way to Heaven is to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the late update, I had a day trip yesterday but expect another chapter out later tonight :) Thanks for the reviews and favs thus far, and I hope they continue to bring me ancient wisdom and fathomless truth.

_"That's right, Sammy. Keep going. You're doing good."_

_They're climbing up a mountain. A grand steep and white jagged mountain._

_Sam's never climbed a mountain._

_He's following his fearless brother who's always one step behind watching his back, or one step ahead ready to help him up. Sam's knuckles are scraped and his muscles ache, but he's determined to reach the top where the light is the brightest. He can't remember why he wants to go there. As long as he's with Dean everything will be—_

_"Dean?" his voice echoes in the vast emptiness. Glancing around, Sam sees there is no one on the mountain but himself. No brother behind him or above him. How did he lose sight of him?_

_Sam calls again, louder this time, and the air trembles with his voice. Frantic, he climbs higher if only just to catch a glimpse of ragged denim and thick heeled boots. The air steadily grows colder and colder the higher he goes, nearly suffocating him._

_Everything looks the same. Sam doesn't know if he's going up or around in a circle, then he realizes. Without a point of reference, Sam doesn't know where he is. Without a guide, he doesn't know where to go. Without Dean, he doesn't know how to go on._

_Panic overwhelming him at his sudden loss, Sam's fingers slip._

_Unable to stop himself, he slides down, crashing into every obstacle in his path. Bones crack, joints misplace, cries of agony bounce back to him. As wind rushes past his ears, Sam squints to try and catch the peak of the mountain. It was so difficult to climb up, yet with one mistake, he's falling down. It was so easy too, what one mistake can do._

_It hurts Sam to recognize that this has literally been his life._

_The light grows dimmer as he falls and falls and falls._

_He thinks he's going to die. Alone and broken and confused. Praying to God never really did him any good so, Sam seals his eyes shut and whispers the name that embodies all of his love and humanity._

_It feels like forever, descending exponentially into a world of solitude where gravity rules, but suddenly his descent halts—stopped with a crash landing into a strong set of arms._

_"…I got you, Sammy," a low voice murmurs. It's all tranquil, seductive, and taunting in equal parts._

_Despite the hellish trip down, Sam feels like he just fell right into heaven—even if that heaven means a pair of jet black eyes and a cruel smile, it's the only one he has._

Jolting awake, Sam lifts his heavy head and glances groggily around the cold Impala. As it has been for the past few weeks, the vehicle is uninviting, chilly, and for the first time—truly just a plain old car. Without Dean, Sam feels unusually like a stranger in his own home.

Dawn illuminates the interior of the car as he wipes his hands over his face. Taking a deep shuddery breath, he tries to forget the warmth of his brother's arms.

With one turn of the key the engine ignites, replacing the quiet with rolling thunder. Sam clutches the cold steering wheel and guides the car towards the road still cast in shadow. Steadily, he drifts farther and farther away from the golden sun, knowing that where his destination will be there is no return-trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh...sorry for the previous formatting earlier, but should be good from this chapter on.


	4. I Don't Want to Be Fixed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's the fourth chapter. Earlier than expected but I don't think I can upload later tonight, so here we are. Warnings for this chapter as there is non-consensual sexual acts that occur. Feel free to leave a review if you like or don't like where I'm going :)

They're in a semi-rowdy roadhouse somewhere between Oklahoma and Missouri. It's deckled with hunters and motorists, filled with wafting smoke and the stench of alcohol and sweat. Black Sabbath's _Heaven and Hell_ is playing when Sam finally realizes that the man's back he's been drunkenly staring at for the past six minutes looks suspiciously familiar. He thinks, _Nah, couldn't be—not here in the middle of little shit nowhere—_

"Hell" is screamed just as the man turns around. Sam drops his drink. He doesn't believe it. He hasn't seen his brother once since he let him escape after nearly killing Sam.

Dean's grin is wide, twisted, as he leaves his card table. He casually sidles up to the bar counter where Sam sits on a bar stool. Boots crunch the broken glass on the floor. The sharp crisp sound makes Sam wince.

"Hello Sammy," Dean starts, voice low and deceptively pleased. "Heard you were looking for me."

 _Since you_ _fucking left me_ , Sam thinks angrily but what comes out is, "You followed me?" It's accusing because Sam knows this is no coincidental meeting. He tried deliberately to find his brother, and now that Sam's taking a break to wallow in his misery, Dean just shows up?

Another smile, all cocky flashes Sam's way. It's the kind of smile that reminds him back in the day where they didn't know who Azazel was; it hurts to look at.

"What can I say?" Dean answers as he faces the taller man. To Sam's utter disbelief, his brother easily steps into the V of his legs, hands sliding roughly over his knees and his thighs, pulling them wider so he could situate himself right against Sam's groin. The older man looks up with a smirk, "I got tired of waiting."

Demons are playful—in the worst possible ways, Sam knows. They torture, deceive, and kill for fun. They manipulate, tease, and seduce all for the wrong reasons. That doesn't stop fire from burning everywhere that Dean has touched him, from feeling the heat that pulses deep in his cock when it brushes with his brother's. It's all uncalled for and Sam doesn't understand why Dean is doing this. Worse is the sharp jolt his heart receives at the intimate contact.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sam tries to shift back. Hot hands on his ass stop him and drag him closer yet. He's too drunk for this. "What the _fuck_ , Dean," Sam hisses, elbow on the man's chest while his other elbow presses against the bar.

Dean tilts his head, eyes shining bright and insincere with a smile to match. "Find a way to kill me yet, baby brother?" he asks tauntingly instead.

"Fucking homos!" some fool slurs out. It's totally the wrong thing to say because Dean's eyes go black and all hell breaks loose right there.

Three men are down, including the one who apparently insulted them. Dean grins over their still bodies and Sam couldn't have done much to stop him. His brother is swifter and more powerful than ever. By the time Sam set both his feet down and stumbled a few steps, the unfortunate drunks were already strewn across the floor. Not dead but just knocked out.

The uproar that follows suit is expected. Music continues to blare and people are howling for a fight while the bartender tries to rectify the situation. In the middle, basking in immoral glory, Dean smugly grins.

"Anyone else want a fight, huh?" he shouts obnoxiously looking around, "I'll fucking rape all your asses!" he ends laughing.

It does the trick. A few more men join the fray, including a hunter Sam realizes is part of O'Donald's alliance. Gleaming in his hand is a very familiar weapon—a demon killing knife. Sam doesn't have time to think about where it came from, who made it, or what that might mean, because he's pushing through the crowd surrounding his brother and shouting his name.

Dean doesn't hear him and the hunter is advancing. All the wrong thoughts course through Sam's brain as age old instinct, habit, and reflexes kick in. His limbs are heavy with liquor but his will courses fiercely through him and Sam shoves the last person aside.

The hunter's a meter away from Dean just as Sam tackles the man down. Everything happens too fast in his hazy mind. Hands are on him, roughly pulling him off, and he receives a few kicks and punches just for good measure. He cries out painfully as one particularly hurt.

Everything changes after that. The crowd's roars for more blood suddenly turn to quiet dismay. Lying on the ground half-way between the mortal world and the unconscious, Sam's buzzing ears picks up dull sickening thuds. He turns his head with difficulty and sees Dean punching the daylights out of the hunter he tackled. He can't quite hear what his brother is saying, but it's no longer playful as it was before. It's wrathful and Sam doesn't have the strength to do anything about it. His eyes blur and then he can't hear quite so well anymore as he slips into darkness.

Dean's sitting on his lower abs, knees up and feet on either side of Sam's ribs when he wakes up. "You look good in red," he chuckles, moving the hand that was on Sam's cheek, to wipe the taller man's mouth. He leans back and grins. "About time you woke up."

Coughing, Sam struggles to sit up. "How long was I out?"

"Half a minute."

Sam decides not to comment on that. He looks around, suddenly aware of the empty and damaged bar. Soft rock still plays brokenly in the background. "What happened?" he asks, glaring at his brother.

"I killed a man and told the rest to fuck off," Dean answers casually, arms resting over his knees. Of course, Sam wants to give a piece of his mind, but he finds himself interrupted after he says his brother's name. "Sammy, I already told you. I don't want to be fixed."

There could be no ache greater than the one Sam feels now. "Why?" he bites out, trying to push his brother off. His body is still sluggish though and heavy.

"I don't _need_ to be fixed," Dean answers crouching over and gives a lop-sided turn of the lips. "I have power. I can do whatever I want. I can kill, sleep, fuck and—here's the best part—I don't feel regret for a _single_ thing I do."

"You're sick and you're just saying that—"

"I'm not sick, Sam." Dean fixes a stare at Sam, all serious now. "For the first time, I feel awake. _Alive_ …And it's all thanks to you," he ends smiling sweetly. "My baby bro. My saviour. You've set me free."

"You don't mean that!" Sam shouts hoarsely. He means to say more but again, Dean interrupts him.

"Hmm…now how should I repay you?" Sam sees his brother wonder, head tilting to the ceiling in honest to god _thought_ , just as he feels a hot hand on his clothed cock.

Sam jumps. "Dean, what the hell—"

"Y'know, you grew up with this face like you always had a stick up your ass," Dean continues in innocent wonder. He also continues to massage Sam's hardening dick. He even slams a foot down on Sam's chest when he tries to struggle. "You still do," he adds glancing down.

"Dean—"

"So, I'm thinking…" Dean continues nonchalantly as he slowly pushes his ass back towards Sam's groin, "what if I replaced that stick with my di—"

Sam throws his head back and his groan is so loud he cuts his brother off. He can't help it though…the sweet heat, the heavy pressure, the perfect mold of Dean's ass is enough to make him stiffer than a log. Not to mention he's drunk, sensitive, and plain craving what he hadn't been getting for months. "T-that's a terrible idea, Dean," he gasps out anyways. He glimpses at his brother's face and feels confusion. Since becoming a demon, not once did Dean reveal such an expression so…not cruel; Sam's at a loss to what it means.

"I…think it's a _great_ idea," Dean breathes out low and slow as he grinds down onto Sam's cock again.

Breath hitching, Sam still manages to ask, "Y-you can't— _ugh_ —be serious..!"

Dean starts unbuttoning Sam's jeans and asks teasingly, "When am I not serious about sex, Sammy?"

Furious, Sam yells, "Since we're brothers!"

"And I'm a demon!" Dean laughs, but then he stops trying to tug Sam's pants down, shifts his legs so his knees dig into the taller man's side, and leans down looking every bit the demon he claims. "I'd fuck our sister too, if she was hot," he whispers darkly, eyes black. They switch back and he adds with mischievousness, "If we had a sister," he chuckles.

Disgust coils in Sam's guts and panic rises in his throat. He truly tries to escape, arms flailing, fists throwing punches, legs attempting to somehow thrust his brother off, but he can't. Dread fills him as a familiar invisible force presses down on his chest, his legs, and nullifies him.

"If you want to repay me, than just fucking _kill_ me," Sam spits out. After all, he would deserve it.

"Tut, tut, Sammy," Dean scolds in jest and tugs off Sam's jeans. "You don't want that. You still want to cure me, or kill me—whatever comes first, remember? Besides, it's not about what _you_ want, it's about what _I_ want, for once y'know?" Another low chuckle then Dean's unbuttoning his own jeans. "And what I want right now is this _fine_ piece of ass."

Held by demonic power, Sam isn't able to do a single thing. He curses as his legs are pushed apart. He cries as he's fingered with lube that Dean proudly claims he always carries around ( _'Just in case,' he states winking_ ), and he moans as his brother slowly penetrates him.

Sam wants everything to hurt, expects it to hurt, because that's how a punishment should be. He should be screaming in agony. Regrettably it's the opposite. He's groaning in unmistakeable pleasure because Dean, _the bastard_ , is purposely making it good. He's tender and gentle in the foreplay, careful and measured in his thrusts, skillful with his hands on Sam's cock, and sweet with his lips on Sam's skin. It's what comes out of Dean's mouth that contradicts his actions; it's what makes Sam's moral war inside himself and what makes him want to throw himself back in the pit. It's Dean's words that painfully remind Sam that, yes, this is his brother and, yes, he is a demon.


	5. Is Cum or Blood a Better Colour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the late chapter. Just couldn't figure out how to word a few things and it's far from what I originally intended to write, but it's better I think. Again, warnings about sexual non-consent. There's a lot so beware and review :)

"Dean—wait for _one_ fucking s-second would you?" Sam splutters out before being slammed against the wall.

"Nope. You're just going to try and convince me that I need help. _Again_ ," Dean says rolling his eyes. He sounds exasperated as he strips Sam of his jeans. "C'mon Sammy, I don't need to be fixed. How many times do I have to fuck that into you, huh?"

Sam bites his lip as he thinks about it. Thrice they've encountered each other in the past week and a half since the bar incident, and each time, Dean's power bound him still. Sam would always try to fight; never meant anything. His ass is still sore from the day before and he really doesn't want to get roped in today. "I'm not going to give up on you," he growls, despite having his legs hoisted up and around his brother's waist. He can't touch him though, hands above his head and all.

"Well, then," Dean murmurs pointedly, glancing up at the taller man after he slicks up. "I guess you're just never gonna sit properly again."

Then Sam's filled for the fifth time in just over nine days. As usual, his head snaps back, never ready for that initial stretch, especially since Dean didn't prep him at all today. He swallows his groan when he feels his prostate being stimulated. He's not going to give his brother the satisfaction of hearing him, not like he did that first time.

"Why so quiet, hmm?" Dean mumbles breathily into his neck. He stares at Sam, hands hot on the man's waist as he thrusts hard upwards once. "Why don't you moan for me again, huh, like that first time?"

Voice hitching, Sam avoids his brother's eyes and exhales sharply. It really feels good. Sex with Dean, consensual or not, has always been good. Sam doesn't know how or why. However, it's the shame that really takes its toll on the younger man, and that's what makes it all the more unforgiveable. Gulping, he shakily answers, "Because I'm not fucking drunk, dumbass."

At that, Dean laughs and runs one hand under Sam's flannel, feeling the smooth muscles underbeath, before dragging his cock out.

The second time they met, Sam barely recovered from the bar incident. His body ached; his anus and cock even more so. He fainted after orgasm and woke up in the Impala the next morning with a hangover and his pants on, although he could feel the dry cum around his hole. After that, he saw Dean a day later. The man was on the same wendigo hunt as him and had just killed the creature when Sam came crashing in. He claimed for the need to be rewarded for "helping." Sam tried to escape. And failed. He was fucked against a tree with blood on it.

The third time happened two days later. Sam finally tracked down his brother in California punishing rogue demons under a clear sky (meaning ones who didn't obey him according to Dean). He managed to imprison the man in a Devil's Trap after and for fifteen minutes, tried to exorcise him. Dean thought it was cute but said poetry just wasn't his thing, in which Sam proceeded to inject his blood into his brother. Five grueling hours passed. Dean didn't react like Crowley. He didn't feel remorse for his actions at all, just giddy about the whole blood flowing into him sensation and endlessly taunting Sam—how he wanted to be in him again, make him cry. Then it rained and Sam wanted to slap himself silly for being that dumb. He got fucked on the ground with mud on his knees and hands.

The fourth time was strange even by Sam's standards. He was just talking to a blonde woman that he interviewed the other day. They really connected so he called and they have a nice dinner together. Sam escorted her home, completely intent on reacquainting himself with the female anatomy. He gave her one passionate kiss before she collapsed dead on the floor—stabbed in the back by a twisted and ragged teethed blade. Sam was furious, screaming, but that didn't stop him from being fucked into the woman's bed.

It's the fifth time, Sam's current situation, that's the mystery. He tracked Dean once more, hanging out in another bar. He was going to kill a man before Sam stopped him, to Sam's great surprise. However, two demons manage to take Sam hostage, threatening his brother to end his Hell Campaign or Sam will die. Dean laughed cruelly, claiming that Sam was nobody to him anymore. He still murdered the two demons without as much as a scratch on Sam's body or a ruffle in his hair. To add to the younger man's shock, Dean bellowed out that _nobody_ had the right to kill his brother. Angel, human, or demon—he would make them regret it. The younger man thought that Dean truly looked like a leader then, a totalitarian one, so drunk on power it was making him crazy.

Could he really save Dean from himself? Is it even possible? So far Sam has been getting nothing useful for all his troubles. Some may even call it masochistic for persistently hunting for his brother knowing the full consequences. Sam doesn't understand though as to why Dean would choose that particular form of torture for him. Everyone else gets a knife in the gut, or a punch in the face if their lucky. But _no_ , Sam gets a dick in his ass.

Not for the first time, Sam grinds out, "Why are you doing this to me?" His brother always avoided the question before.

Dean pauses thoughtfully and Sam can't help clenching around the thickness in him. "Why?" Dean repeats, slowly pushing back in. He focuses solely on Sam's face and smiles. "Maybe because I know you want it to hurt," he says and Sam's stomach contracts. Dean's hand slides down from Sam's sweaty chest, heading for the younger man's straining cock as he continues, "But I'm not going to give you the satisfaction, Sammy, no, that'll be too _easy_ ," he says wrapping his fingers around his brother's member. "You're not gonna hate me for doing this to you." He strokes down with expertise and smiles cruelly when Sam bites his lips. "You're going to hate _yourself_ for wanting it." Dean ends thrusting hard and tightening his stroke.

Just like that, to Sam's shame, he silently shoots. Too high from his release, Sam isn't even surprised when warm liquid splatters parts of his lips, chin, and his jaw. " _Fuck_ …" he murmurs, head titled back and panting like a dog.

"You look better in cum," Dean hums, leaning in and licking the white substance off Sam's lips and jaw. At his neck, Dean closes his lips around the pearl droplet and sucks.

Sam gasps. Not once has his brother even ventured near his face or his neck. "Dean…" he whispers weakly.

The sex is over, Sam knows by the soft dick slipping out of his ass, but his brother still holds him, still runs his hands over Sam's thighs and his ribs; it's unusual, along with the sucking. Then Dean sinks his teeth into the younger man until blood draws. Sam swears and glares at his brother. He watches Dean admire his own work and then smirks, nodding.

"Yeah, cum definitely looks better on you."

"A black eye would suit you," Sam snaps.

But Dean's not listening. "Hey, I've got an idea—how about you blow me next time and I'll paint you with my cum?" His eyes are bright, childish, full of excitement like it's such a great suggestion. It only succeeds in making Sam's stomach roll and his blood boil.

 _God, he has the worst ideas ever._ "How about I tear your dick off?" Sam growls out sarcastically.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Dean releases the power holding the taller man up. Nearly yelping, Sam slips down from the wall and automatically wraps his arms around his brother's neck and tightens his legs about Dean's waist. He breathes hard, trying to regain composure and feeling in his limbs before realizing that he should just let go. However, Sam makes the mistake of looking at his brother, whose hands are still warm on his buttocks, and freezes.

It's the same expression Dean wore the first time before he decided to screw the younger man into the ground. Mouth slightly parted, his eyes flit around Sam's face, breath just barely ghosting over Sam's jaw.

"…What?" Sam murmurs confused.

Dean's eyes stills. "You have stupid hair," he declares and disappears.

Back in the Impala, all cleaned up and dressed, Sam wonders what the hell just happened.


	6. To Cure a Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Damn, writing these chapters took longer than I thought. I haven't watched Season 10 the first episode just yet, but the next chapter will be the last. Expect another update within the next 2 days.

Cain is easier to find than Sam thought if he knew just where to look. He's taken back by how humble mankind's first murderer lives. Then Sam learns of the actual story behind Cain and Abel, the one Dean neglected to tell him when the man received the mark; he's shocked by the new knowledge. After a few more questions and swapping stories, he also learns who the woman in the photographs around Cain's cottage is and how Sam might be the key to helping his brother.

It's nothing supernatural though and everything to do with being human.

Sam's hands nearly break the fragile porcelain cup he holds as he stares agape at Cain. "You're kidding me—I need to make Dean _fall in love_? _And_ cry? He's a demon!"

" _I'm_ a demon," Cain shoots back easily. "Who had a wife."

"But, but he won't just randomly fall in love when all he wants to do is kill or fuck!"

"You're his brother aren't you?" The bearded man asks, leaning back on his sofa, elbows on the arm rest as he strokes his chin.

Heart jumping for just a moment, Sam answers carefully, "Yes…what does that matter?"

"You still love him?"

"Of course, he's my brother. We've died for each other so many times—"

"Then it's not impossible," Cain says. "You two seem to be very close—"

Sam doesn't like where the conversation is going and interrupts, "He's _not_ going to fall in love with me." He can't even believe Cain would suggest something like that.

"…How do you know?"

Wriggling in his chair, Sam averts his eyes for few seconds. He doesn't want to admit what happened between him and his brother, but if he can fix Dean, he'll have to tell Cain everything. "B-because we've already…screwed…a few times and nothing has changed." He doesn't really believe his words though. Last time he saw his brother, Dean gave him an expression that Sam thought looked awfully like…like he was his brother again and relieved to see Sam alive.

"It's not impossible," Cain reiterates unfazed. "Find your brother," he says standing up, "and do what you have to do."

Sam stumbles up too, "You don't understand—it won't work!"

"Then find the mark's maker and ask him to take it away," Cain states walking away. "Last I heard, he's still in the Cage."

Recalling fire and ice and endless torture, Sam sits back down and shuts up.

00000000000

If searching for Dean was difficult before, finding him at the moment is near impossible. Almost a week has gone by, yet, no clues to where his brother might be. Despite the unfruitful search, Sam does learn a few things. Like the bodies piling up before, Sam talked to witnesses who all claimed that Dean, although ruthless, was standing up for those who couldn't. Hurt women, abused children, even mistreated _pet dogs_. Apparently, Dean also continued to hunt the supernatural. Demons, werewolves, salt-and-burns, the man still did them all.

Then there was the bar incident…Dean only killed when Sam was hurt. After that, only a wendigo and a woman Sam tried to seduce have died. The latter still confuses Sam but Dean wouldn't answer directly to any of his questions, just roughly shoved into him and whispered taunt after taunt until Sam couldn't recall the woman's name. And then there was their last encounter, Dean killed another two demons with Sam being held hostage before announcing he was untouchable.

Sam pulls off onto the side of the road to park. Gripping the steering wheel tight, he takes a deep breath and lets it out in one whoosh. _Maybe Cain is on to something_ , the lone man thinks, fingers clenching and unclenching the wheel. _Maybe there is something more than the sex…maybe, just maybe…_

The young Winchester doesn't finish his thoughts though. Once again, the Impala is roaring down the road. He has an idea.

00000000000

Kyle is tall, not as tall as Sam but that's the way the hunter wants it. The stranger has short cropped hair, a stubble, green eyes, wears a dark brown leather jacket, and has a great smile. Sam takes a liking to him immediately and accepts the beer he offers him, although he is surprised he's hit on by a man.

They have a pleasant chat about the drinks, the music, and the people in the bar until Sam decides he hates this man's guts. It isn't too long though before Kyle gives Sam an obvious once over and asks if he wants to go somewhere more private. Sam swallows his disgust and agrees.

He follows him out into a dark cool alley lit only by a dim green light. Music fades away as the metal door closes behind Sam and Kyle pushes him up against the brick wall. Hands are already on Sam's member with lips mashing against his own; it's plain greed and lust and completely wrong. Although he kisses back and brings Kyle closer, Sam just really wants to crawl away, withdraw his skin from this man's and cleanse under a shower.

"Really Sam? I'm gone for just a few days and then you find this boy toy?" a familiar mocking voice rings clear in the empty alley.

Sam only has time enough to open his eyes and meet his brother's before Kyle is thrown against the opposite wall. The man is unconscious when he hits the dirty floor with a heavy thud.

"Dean!" Sam yells, wiping his mouth. He runs towards Kyle just as Dean stalks towards the limp body. Seeing the black eyes glint in the emerald tinted alley makes Sam's chest pound, but he pushes his fear, his excitement aside and stands between his brother and the stranger. "Stay away from him, Dean," Sam warns.

The demon glares at him, black eyes reverting to normal. "Or what, Sammy?" he challenges, waving his savage blade around. "You going to exorcise me? Like that did so well last time," Dean says laughing cruelly.

"I love him," Sam says flatly, and, yeah, that really is farfetched and false but Sam needs to know if his brother will care. Plus, Kyle didn't deserve to die caught up in their drama. Sam's words seem to have the intended and opposite effect.

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffs.

Sam raises his brows and huffs. "What, you don't believe in love at first sight?" Because Sam didn't for sure.

Silence lasts only a few seconds before black flashes through Dean's eyes once more. He grits his teeth and clenches the blade even tighter, trying to get past the taller man. "Move! I'm going to fucking cut his dick off!" There's no humour to these words at all.

 _A little too much_ , Sam thinks to himself, but he has his answers. "Dean, Dean—I'm just kidding!" he shouts, blocking his brother from passing. Dean shoots him a sharp and suspicious look. _God he's so close._ Taking a deep breath, Sam continues. "I was kidding. I just met the man. You know me. There's no way I'd fall for someone like him, he's a dick."

Narrow eyes search Sam's face. "Then why..?" Dean demands.

 _Alright, here goes_. "Because…he looked like you," Sam murmurs, trying to be shy. "And I haven't seen you in _days_. I just thought—"

Dean laughs, but it isn't as cruel as before. "Whatever you thought, baby bro, it's all _wrong_ ," he crows with delight and pins Sam to the wall with unseen force. Sam manages a gasp as Dean pockets his knife and strides towards him with a sly grin. "First of all, that bitch looks _nothing_ like me. I'm prettier. Secondly," he says in front of Sam, "just because you haven't been getting it doesn't mean _he's_ going to satisfy you."

"You never know unless you don't try," Sam argues easily, lips twitching up slightly. He's got to play a willing partner if his plan is going to fall through.

"If you wanted cock, Sammy," Dean murmurs sweetly, hands slipping under Sam's shirt, "you could've just asked me."

It's sick how fast Sam's flaccid member hardens at the touch, the words, and anticipating more. Even Dean's close proximity is making his heart beat more than normal—more than it should beat for a brother. What Dean all said before though, about him hating himself for wanting this… maybe it's not all true. "You were MIA," Sam breathes. Dean doesn't comment as he feels every rib bone on Sam's side. "…What were you doing?" the younger man tries again.

"Campaigning," Dean says offhandedly, breathing along Sam's neck. "What does it matter? I was relieving stress."

The reply sends a little shiver up Sam's spine, but he pushes on. "Dean, let me go," he says as passively as possible.

"No."

" _Dean_ ," Sam whines, head tilting back, trying to sound seductive. It comes a little too naturally and his brother pauses from sucking his neck. "C'mon, haven't you screwed me enough to touch you?" Sam murmurs licking his lips and glancing down. "I want to touch you, Dean."

"…Whatever's with you today," the older man says smiling, "I like it." Then Sam's body slowly slides down the wall until his feet softly touch the ground. Dean's hands are just under his waistband and he looks expectantly at Sam. "Well?"

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, Sam carefully brings one shaky hand to cradle his brother's face. It feels strangely relieving to have that freedom. He brings his other hand behind Dean's head, then leans forward and angles his chin so he won't bump into the older man's nose. "Dean…" Sam says quietly over his lips.

"No kisses, Sam," Dean mutters with effort, but if Sam leans forward another inch, he could plant one on his brother. It doesn't seem like the man would move anyways.

"I wasn't going to," Sam smiles and clamps an iron collar, with anti-demon sigils on it, around Dean's neck. He's been waiting all night to do this. Hiding all the chains and collars in his jacket wasn't difficult, but _hell_ , he should've done this sooner. Dean only ever removed clothing below the waist.

Snappng cuffs over Dean's weak hands, he tapes his brother's mouth too. Sam feels a little bad that he's tricked his muffled brother as he throws him over his shoulder, but he needs to do this—including throwing him into his own Baby's trunk and driving smugly off to the bunker.


	7. A Different Kind of Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After all these years, I'm finally putting an end to this series! Keep in mind I wrote this waaay before season 10 even started and couldn't finish it once it started because turns out Dean can be cured with purified human blood. There goes my theory that you can't cuz Dean's special with the Mark of Cain. Anyways, hope you enjoy this alternate take of how Dean is cured. Totally sappy but I'm a sucker for happy endings!

God may have created humans to be in his image, and Fate may have spun the threads of destiny (until the Winchesters ganked her), but it's Sam Winchester who refuses to play his part in the natural order. For how many times had he thrown the world into _dis_ order? Escaped Death? And defied the laws of life? It's no joke. Sam Winchester has fought for humans and fought to be human himself, but it'll never be enough. His efforts will never be enough. Evil will never sleep. And Sam knows that, without a doubt, he will never die an easy death.

Such is the destiny of a Winchester.

"Finally couldn't resist my charms, could you Sammy boy?" Dean says pleased. Despite the man being chain-bound to a chair in a Devil's Trap, in a shitty lit room, Dean _still_ manages to sound smug.

It annoys Sam as he unbuckles his own belt and starts working on his zipper. "Shut up, Dean," he mutters.

For nearly four hours, Sam tried cracking down on his demon of a brother. He asked him questions about everything. Why rule Hell? Why not kill him yet? Why go hunting still? Why kill the people who tried to hurt him? Why put a dick in him?

Constantly _why, why, why_ but Dean rarely answered them. He always managed to say something dirty and insinuating. Sam didn't want to torture his brother, just needed to lead him on just a bit. So, the younger man finally gave up his attempt at being a hardass when Dean's taunting words were getting to him. He didn't want to admit it for the longest time but his ass did crave his brother; his hole practically itching to have _something_ in him.

So, it's time to move on to Plan B.

Sliding off his pants nervously, Sam notices how quiet the room becomes. He looks to his captive, expecting mockery, but Dean just stares at him-particularly his lower half.

"What?" Sam mutters as he kicks off his shoes. He leaves everything above the waist on. It's unnecessary to take off _all_ his clothes.

The demon licks his lips. "…You really are a Sasquatch through and through, aren't you?" he says teasingly.

Sam scoffs but feels blood rushing to his crotch anyways. "If you like it so much, maybe _I'll_ fill _you_ up with it." Which, to be honest, Sam has been haphazardly thinking about except…

"Bitch _please_ ," Dean says laughing low. "You're the one who wants my dick so bad."

...Which is true. It's a little disturbing how _much_ Sam wants it, considering how he never wanted anything remotely like that in his life before his brother screwed him over. Literally. But this was Sam's last resort if they're last encounter was anything to go by.

Meanwhile, Dean sits all nonchalant chained with a smirk, his face cast in sharp shadows from the lightbulb above. It's creepy, wrong, makes Sam's skin chill, but he wets his dry lips and reaches for his brother's zipper anyways.

 _God, this is fucked up_ , Sam thinks before realizing bitterly that there is no God. He's always had a few screws loose when it came to his brother—what does it matter if he fucks himself on this man now? Worser things have been done.

The quiet continues as Sam carefully pulls out Dean's semi-hard member. He swallows audibly. Glancing up at the older man, Sam half-expects some kind of taunt; it never comes. Instead, his brother just stares at him with lidded eyes, pupils dark with desire. It gives Sam enough confidence to wrap his long fingers around Dean's cock and slowly tug it away from the man's body.

After a few minutes, Dean pants out, "Harder," just as perspiration breaks out on his forehead.

Sam gives him a _yeah right_ look and continues to do the opposite. Right hand on his brother's stiff flesh, he uses his left to rummage around Dean's jacket pocket. Sure enough, there's a bottle of lube. Only a quarter or less left. He squeezes a decent amount on his right hand then goes back to his ministrations. Dean tilts his head back this time, giving a low groan. It makes Sam's dick twitch, encouraging him to pull harder, faster, getting high off his brother's groans—then he stops.

In all his years growing up with the man, Sam has never actually seen his brother's dick when it was hard. And it is _full_ mass right now, dark, heavy and thick in his palm, almost as big as his own, and Sam can't quite believe that had actually fit in him before. He's never looked, never got the chance, despite being fucked with it before, but he's up close with it and...

"I'm flattered Sammy, but you're gonna have to wipe the drool off your face if-"

Sam abruptly stands up, quickly dragging a sleeve over his mouth. _Well, that's embarrassing..._

"Hey!" Dean warns, suddenly struggling and glaring at Sam when the taller man straddles him. "You need _prep_ or I'm gonna rip you."

The words don't make sense to Sam's lust fogged brain though. They've gone without prep before and it wasn't so bad. Plus, Sam is getting more impatient by the second. His hands are positioned on the back rest behind Dean and he uses it to balance himself as his ass hovers over his brother's member. Sam can feel the head of it catching his rim before he shudders, mentally groaning in anticipation.

The older man tries to convince him again.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam retorts, trying to angle the cock properly against his entrance. "We went at it before with nothing but lube."

Struggling again, jingling the chains that hold him, Dean growls out in anger that's never actually been directed to Sam before since the day Dean became a demon. "You were already loose but I haven't fucked you in _days_. You're gonna hurt yourself, you jackass."

"...Why do you care if I hurt myself?" Sam asks bitterly, carefully. _You're a demon,_ is left unsaid but nonetheless implied. Sam can only hope his plan would correct that.

Dean frowns."You think I'm gonna be any better? You're gonna peel my dick off with how tight you are. Just free me and I'll give it to you nice and proper on that table behind you, alright lil bro?" Dean tries to sound reassuring if just a little cocky, which gives Sam a little more hope. Said table is just outside the demon trap, and has a flask of holy water, just in case. The thought doesn't even occur to Sam.

He grits his teeth. "Don't call me, 'lil bro," and then he's pushing himself down an inch and half.

Of course Dean is right—he's _always_ right when it matters—and the pain that blooms around Sam's hole is harsh enough that his body tenses where he is and he gasps. Desperately clutching his brother's shoulder, Sam tries to breathe, tears prickling at his eyes as he does so.

"Fuck…! …S-Sam, are you alright?" he can hear his brother asking with difficulty himself. Pain is still singing in the younger man's skull though. "Sammy?" cuts through the fog in his head and that catches Sam's attention. He carefully leans back and looks at the older man, whose forehead has creased with what looks like concern. "I told you it would hurt," Dean mutters.

Sam doesn't say anything at first. His legs are trembling and his tender bottom is in no better shape. The twisted side of himself, the side that's still chasing the pleasure he wants from this man, wants to continue. Well, he _has_ to, it's part of the plan. It'd be hopeless any other way.

"Dean…." Sam murmurs, hands moving from his brother's shoulders to his face in desperation, "I don't care that it hurts." Thumbs sweep past the corner of his brother's eyes, wiping the sweat there away. "I thought I would hate myself for wanting this. And I do." He stares anxiously at his brother, who has less than a quarter of his cock up Sam's ass, and his voice trembles when he continues. "But now that I want you, _just_ you…what're you going to do?"

Green eyes gaze at him and Sam could swear he sees his big brother in there briefly. Then Dean opens his mouth—"If you take off these fucking chains, I'll show you."

Sam scoffs, feeling foolish and suddenly alert. "Yeah right. You're going to kill me."

"S _am_ ," Dean says gruffly. Sam doesn't yield though—how stupid would that be? He's confused when his brother sighs in resignation instead of fuming at him like he expects a demon would do. "Fine. If you're going to ride me, at least do it properly."

"Wha—"

"Relax your muscles and lift yourself up _slowly_ ," Dean instructs.

Sam does. He cautiously pulls off and hears Dean's sharp hiss against his ears. A little sympathetic, the younger man continues at a snail's pace until he's completely off. Sweat has already broken out as he breathes a sigh of relief, and yet, there's also a sense of loss. Sam looks at his brother, wanting back on. As if knowing this, Dean glares and gives the next instructions.

Obediently, Sam reaches behind, pushing in one long thick finger into himself. It's simultaneously arousing and appalling what he's doing to his own body. Pleasure runs up Sam's spine as his sphincter contracts tightly over his digit.

"Relax, baby, just relax," Dean murmurs into Sam's ears as if he's actually soothing him with his hands. And Sam tries; he thinks about his brother, about how he fingered him before, how his hands were warm and strong along his inner thighs, and then Sam begins to act in earnest.

He wills his body to relax, pulls his finger out, slick with lube from before, and pushes back in carefully several times. Dean murmurs another order. Then Sam's slipping two fingers in. His hole stretches nicely, less painfully, and when the thick skin of his joints slightly tugs at his entrance, Sam shivers in satisfaction. He likes how his inner walls give way to the intrusion, closes up, and then repeats with each penetration. It goes on for two minutes. At the fifth, Sam has his third finger in, shoving relentlessly into himself just when Dean tells him to stop.

Pausing, blinking owlishly at his brother, Sam has to remember the reason why he's loosening his hole up in the first place. When he looks to his brother, he remembers. How did Sam forget? Then he's grabbing Dean's leaking hard dick. He's quick, ahead of Dean's instructions, when he roughly descends on the thick cock. This time, pain doesn't greet Sam. Perhaps a little discomfort with his insides stretching so unnaturally, nonetheless, it's pleasure that hums through Sam's body. He gasps out silently as his forehead drops against his brother's shoulders to ground himself.

" _Dean_ ," Sam breathes out heavily, lips moist against the man's warm skin.

"C'mon, Sammy, raise yourself and— _ugh_ …!" Dean himself presses his forehead against Sam's nape. "Son of a bitch," he rasps.

Wanting to hear the older man groan once more Sam lifts his ass up again, cock almost slipping out of him, and drops down heavily. They both cry out. Clutching Dean harder, he lets go of his inhibitions. All the fear, the uncertainty, all the morals that drive him evaporates. Then Sam's hips suddenly have a will of their own. They lift him up, pull him down, roll, _slam_ , and for minutes nothing could be heard but heavy breathing and wet squelches.

Despite his frantic movements, Sam is barely close, despite him stroking himself. Even the thickness holding him open is not enough anymore—he wants all of Dean around him, not just in him. He's a lone cowboy on this ride, searching for gratification, and Sam just can't seem to find it. "Dean," he breathes shakily, arms weak from supporting himself. He grinds down on the long cock and swivels his hips, groaning low as the skin around his hole stretches side to side.

"Un…unbind me Sam," Dean murmurs.

To his own surprise, Sam does. It feels as if he's not in his own body as he mindlessly unlocks the irons around his brother's wrists and ankles. As he completes this, Sam doesn't leave once from his seat, the seat that thrusts upwards just as the last lock clicks.

" _Fuck_ , Dean!" Sam yelps, scrambling to hold onto his brother before he is bucked off. The leisurely pace Sam had set is easily replaced with Dean's brutal one. The younger man can only steady his hips, butt cheeks parted by a pair of callous hot hands, and endure Dean's dick driving roughly in and out of him. He can barely breathe as each stroke brushes against his prostate and pounds deep into his guts. It's damn good, despite his own cock being neglected. Weakly, he calls his brother's name again, opening his eyes to see the older man staring intently at him. It makes his heart trip. "W-what?"

"Nothing," Dean gives a faux smirk and lifts Sam up before the younger man can analyze that response.

Cock still in him and all, Sam automatically brings his legs around his brother's waist while they cross to the table, holding tightly, Sam's dick straining between the rough flannel shirts they're wearing. He's simultaneously baffled and turned on-no one has _ever_ been able to carry him during sex. Sam decides he likes the sturdy arms holding him though, right before his ass feels cold metal that is. "Shit," he hisses, body clenching.

Consequently, Dean moans. Sam's ears twitch at the sound and he squeezes the man's dick again, experimentally. Sure enough, his brother lets out a similar noise.

" _Fuck_ …turnaround Sammy," Dean demands, hands on Sam's legs to release their grip. "Bend over for me."

"…Then get off me."

Dean shakes his head with a cheeky smirk. "No way. You're gonna turn around with my dick still inside you."

Sam begins to protest, but Dean interrupts with a thrust every time words try to leave the man's mouth. "I'm— _ugh_ —not— _ah_ —stop that De— _fuck_!"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean grins and stops.

Panting and scowling, but mostly aroused, Sam carefully shifts away; Dean's cock slides out just a little bit. As the taller man tries to get his long legs between them and turn around, he can feel his rectum twisting around the thick member in him. The sensation makes Sam's dick harden even more. Breathing deep, Sam continues. He's half way around, with one leg folded upwards and the second on its way down before he's stopped. Dean's hand catches the leg in the air, pushes it up and back, and thrusts into Sam's hole while the man's still on his side.

Of course, Sam complains at the interruption, only it sounds more like a whine than anything else.

"C'mon Sammy, don't stop," Dean says, voice low. "Keep turning." He lets go of the leg.

Like a good little brother, Sam does, all the while squirming and having his ass continuously penetrated. By the time both his feet are planted on the floor, and his chest and elbows are against the table, Sam is soaked in sweat. His balls and cock lay trapped between his body and the hard surface, squashed every time Dean rams into him from behind.

"Jesus, _Dean_!" Sam nearly screams. He pushes his palms against the table, trying to meet every thrust with a shove back with his hips.

There's no response from behind, not that Sam notices when he's drowning in equal parts pain and pleasure like never before. He pants wordlessly, holds in his cries as Dean pushes his shirt up, whispers filth, bites his shoulders, his back, and at the last frantic thrust against his prostate, Sam's whole body stiffens as incomparable orgasm rips through him and sends his seed streaking across the table. On the opposite end, Sam knows he's being filled in more ways than one judging by his brother's satisfied groan.

Collapsed on the table, Sam's breaths comes in shallow bursts. He tries not to mind the sticky mess soaking through his shirt; he can barely stand with his legs weak as a newborn calf. If it wasn't for the weight behind him, _in_ him, Sam would've slipped off the table by now.

It takes a minute or two for the sex haze to clear when Sam remembers. That's right, there's still a demon on the other end of his ass, one who's still breathing hotly against his neck and smoothing hands over his ribs.

"So," Dean murmurs in his ears, and Sam can feel the man's flesh in him reharden, at the same time that fear fills him. "I'm out of the devil's trap…"

At the corner of the table, just within reach, the Holy water Sam keeps for emergencies suddenly looks very useful.

One breath, two.

Sam's right hand darts for the vial, which he can't believe didn't fall off from the fucking earlier, and grasps it. Almost. His hand was slammed down before he could reach it, another hand on top of his, pressing hard and curling fingers in between his, dragging the whole length of his arm down and away. It's too intimate, confusing, and for a few seconds, Sam just stares at the joined pair of hands without moving, thinking.

"You won't be needing that, Sammy..."

The younger man slowly turns his head around, stomach in knots and heart skittering. There's no way he could defeat, let alone restrain, his demon brother in this position. So Sam is prepared for the worst when he looks behind; what he doesn't expect are the warm lips that press over his own in a languid and chaste manner. Gone almost as quick as it came.

"That was your plan B, huh?" Dean says quietly, his rough hands pressing in to Sam's lower back. "Pretty reckless. I could've killed you."

Sam's voice is hoarse when he finally manages to speak. "But you haven't...won't." He gulps and continues, interest stirring back in his groin when Dean runs his thumbs around where they're connected. "How long—"

"Since you nearly skinned my dick off," Dean answers before Sam could finish his question.

Suddenly recalling sweeping _tears_ that Sam thought was just sweat, he burst out in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Of all the times, you cry because I hurt your _dick_?!"

"In my defense, you were _very_ tight," Dean shot back. "That's a compliment Sammy!"

"Fuck you, Dean! Get off me!" All the power that Sam couldn't muster before, he had it in him now in a rage. "All this fucking _time_ you could've _stopped_ it…!" he growls and tries to horse kick his brother off. In doing so, he also tries to ignore how that's doing good things to his own dick against the table and pushing more into his hole.

"Hey," Dean says firmly, shoving his whole body over Sam to immobilize him and even pinning Sam's left arm behind his back. "Are you telling me you _wanted_ it to stop at any time?"

Sam quits struggling and goes still, not that his heart slows down at all with what his brother is implying.

"Because I specifically remember you saying you wanted me, Sam," Dean lightly squeezes their right hands together, " _just_ me. Or was that just part of your plan?"

For a brief moment, Sam considers lying. But he thinks about how much they've been through, how much there's left to go through, and he can't imagine going through it all without his brother. Not anymore.

He squeezes Dean's hand back and mutters, "You made me this way."

"I'm...sorry," Dean says quietly as he releases Sam's left arm, "for treating you that way when I was a demon. Somehow, all my affections for you just twisted... _wrong_."

"...Then make it up to me," Sam suggests and when Dean just stares at him quizzically, Sam adds, "for one, by letting me up cuz looking back at you is killing my neck."

Hesitantly, Dean carefully releases them, hands and cock slipping away with obvious longing. Sam slowly gets up and turns around, letting his brother watch him while he massages his neck and leans against the table.

"Anything else?" Dean asks nervously, as Sam adjusts his ruffled clothes.

They stand there a few seconds more in tense silence before Sam says in a straight face. "Yeah. You're gonna make it up to me by fucking me properly on a bed, and then I'm gonna fuck you back for every time you did me when you were a demon. And then after that, we're gonna keep fucking each other whichever way we want until death do us apart."

Sam watches his brother mouth drop slightly open, gaping at his demand in disbelief. Then Sam's grinning, wide and cheeky, and somehow a little happy. He reverted his brother back to a human all through the cheesiest, and quite possibly the strongest thing ever: _love_. They were already dysfunctionally attached brothers, but now they would be partners in every sense and somehow, Sam feels right by it.

When Dean finally closes his mouth and nods, Sam realizes death _doesn't_ do them apart. All these years they've only been brought closer by death and now Sam knows it's going to be together. Neither could be alone and they're tragedies prove it.

It isn't exactly a comforting thought, but as Sam leaves the interrogation room, with cum dripping down his thighs, and Dean following behind making lewd comments, he thinks there's hope for them yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! Didn't quite turn out to be what I originally wanted but I think it turned out not too bad...quite a lengthy chapter compared to the old ones. Let me know what you think about the ending please, good or bad, or your thoughts how Dean would've been cured :)


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